


Sleeping to Dream

by Gogocullen



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gogocullen/pseuds/Gogocullen
Summary: Edward knows he needs to leave Bella for her safety. But his distance only strengthens Bella's desire for him. And when Edward sees Bella's undeniable lust for him in her sleep, his control falters. A one-short taking place between Twilight and New Moon, EdwardxBella, Canon.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Kudos: 20
Collections: Twilight FanFiction





	Sleeping to Dream

Cool, smooth, hard hands touched me everywhere. Edward. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be closer. I wanted more. But then his lips replaced his hands. There was no restraint as he trailed his mouth from my neck to my chest. “Please, Edward.” He smiled into my skin at my plea. I needed more. I needed release. His exploration continued. 

But, then it was over. Because it was just a dream. It felt so real, though. And as I slowly opened my eyes, I let out a huff of air, feeling unsatisfied and needy. Especially needy because recently I felt as if Edward has been distancing himself from me. Ever since Phoenix and James, I could see the torment in his eyes. His love for me outweighed by his guilt of putting me in danger. He promised me he would stay with me, yet whenever I made him declare this to me again, his eyes would drift from mine, as if he was amending his statement to himself in his head. 

It was more often than not that I crawled into my bed at night alone because he needed to hunt. He needed to think. He needed to run. It was as if he was preparing me for his exit. Each night his absence was a dress rehearsal. The thought made me feel sick. How little he understood me if he believed that I could exist and function without him. 

As I stretched my arms above my head, half wishing I could fall back into my unfinished dream, I became aware that tonight, I was not alone. 

He stood motionless next to my open window, somehow seeming even more rigid than usual. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard me…

And while just moments ago his presence and cool touch in my dream ignited me, I suddenly felt ashamed. I know that our physical love was something that he was not ready for, could not trust himself with. And while I wanted those experiences with him— needed those experiences with him— I didn’t mean to blindside him to something he was not agreed upon. Even if this need arose from the unconscious corners of my brain as I slept.

And beyond that, I was embarrassed. Was he disgusted by my inability to control my desire while I dreamed? Our shared intimacy was everything to me. And we seemed to have found a middle ground that was bearable for him, even with the guilt weighing on him constantly. I never worried about his control on the few nights a week that he did allow me his company. Our quick kisses, the feel of his weight on my mattress next to me as I drifted to sleep at night, his finger tracing my neck. I couldn’t help but imagine what it might feel like if those kisses continued after my heart beat quickened. How it might feel if his hands dipped under the cotton of my pajamas, and chilled the heat that he rose in me. I know that Edward viewed me as pure and innocent. But my dreams of him strayed from memories into fantasies. 

So, as he stood next to my window, I panicked. His eyes were midnight pools in a moonless night – darker than I had ever seen them before. They were different then they were the first day we met in Biology class. They were just as hungry, but much more focused and lidded so that when our eyes met, his peer at me through slits. Was he angry? He had yet to greet me. For all I know he had been standing there, still as a statue, for who knows how long as I slept…and dreamt. Even if he had just entered my bedroom, he would have heard me miles away as I mumbled his name, willing my dreams into existence. Willing him back to me, emotionally and physically. Even if he couldn’t read my thoughts, he was attuned to my body. There was no fooling him. Even in my sleep I desired him. 

His dark eyes bore into me. The intensity was overwhelming. I could feel my cheeks flush as I reached for my quilt that I sat on, fidgeting with the edges. I suddenly aware of how ratty my sleep shirt was. How high my shorts had ridden up as I thrashed around in my sleep, dreaming about the statue that I seemingly sleep talked into my presence. I was too exposed. I wish I could slip under the blanket that I currently lay above. Hide my shame and embarrassment under the covering of my sheets. I stared at it, still feeling the heat of his gaze on me as I broke the silence: “Edward, I’m sor…” 

Before I could finish the word, the mattress shifted and I could sense his closeness, yet he did not touch me. I looked up from the quilt to see him sitting on the far side of the bed. Even now, he is silent. This makes me panic. Is he upset by my physical pull for him? He was constantly telling me that my wants are unreasonable, impossible. 

His eyes were not only dark, they were smoldering. His intensity bore into me for what felt like forever.

He pronounced every syllable of his next sentence, the words rolling off his lips in nothing less than a demanding tone: “What were you just dreaming about, Bella?” 

I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, as if my embarrassment of the last few moments hadn’t left me scalding enough. Even more so than before, I wanted to crawl under my covers and bury my face so that he could not see the need in my eyes. Because, while I was ashamed of my physical yearning towards him, his gaze and his line of questions did nothing to stifle the still lit embers in my core. My thoughts drifted back to my dream. Of him. Of us. I knew he would be unhappy of these wishes. 

My voice shook as I broke out my response: “Oh, you know. The usual stuff.” This was not a lie. I often dreamed of Edward. My dreams did not always please me and my roaming imagination as thoroughly as tonight’s had. But I wasn’t ready to admit that to him.

“And what might those usual dreams include.” He smiled as he said this, but his eyes continued to scold me with their molten ferocity. Even though he sat on the far edge of my bed, his body was as rigid as it was in the shadow of my window. No part of him moved besides his lips, unless you counted the onyx lava of his eyes. 

“Uhh, I think tonight’s dream centered around…um… a particularly successful dinner I was cooking for Charlie.” Now I was lying. My mind was far from the kitchen. In an attempt to hide my fib, I started to shift as to move under my quilt. But the next thing I knew, I was fully reclined on top of my quilt, with Edward pressed to my side, his lips on my neck. He also had his stone arm thrown over my stomach, clasping my far wrist as to hold me in place. 

He kissed below my ear before whispering, “I had no idea that cooking made you so…excited.” So he had seen me. He had heard my heart rate speed at just the thought of him. Exactly as it was now, with him so close to me. His words tickling my neck. His breath cooling the heat on my skin, while simultaneously warming me from my center. My breath caught in my throat audibly. “So, are you going to do as your told for once in your life, and tell me what you were really dreaming about?” In a flash he is hovering above me, holding himself propped on one of his elbows, as the other continued to hold my wrist assertively. He supported his own weight so that he would not crush me, but I could feel his body aligned with mine all the same. He planted open moth kisses on my collar bone. I could feel his icy breath through the cotton of my shirt as he muttered, “I’m waiting…”

My thoughts were clouded with desire. For the past few months since Phoenix, I received small affections from Edward, but nothing like this. He was careful in keeping a distance between our bodies, as if already preparing me for a separation that was on the horizon. We still spent time together, but it was rare that his lips blessed my skin for more than a brief moment. But his distance seemed to only awaken my need. And my need for his touch would only remind him of the longing he did not believe he could fulfill. So, how could I tell him about my dream without pushing him away? 

“I was dreaming of you.” My words came out no louder than a whisper, and were intertwined with my erratic breath. Even though my confession felt incoherent, Edward audibly responded. A low growl erupted from his chest as his lips moved from the hem of my tee-shirt, to my lips. He held my face in his free hand while he kissed me with a force he had never allowed before. I held my breath as our mouths collided. I wrapped my arms around his hard waist in an effort to pull him closers. His scent and touch consume me, and it only takes a few moments before my head is clouded with nothing but my desire for the man who fills my bed and my dreams. 

He pulls his lips away from mine, but keeps his hand tangled in my hair as he moves his mouth to a particularly large hole in my shirt below my collarbone. For a brief moment, his cold lips are replaced by an even icier tongue. I gasp at the sensation, and arch my body to his in a silent plea for more. 

He moved his lips to my neck, and inhaled deeply before he asked, “What was I doing in your dream, Bella?” His loud breath reminded me to breath. I shakily mimicked his inhale, and tried to think how to answer him. I needed to find the words to convey my need for him without driving him away. He had yet to pull away from my beating around the bush so far, so I guess I will continue with elusive. 

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m sure you could guess how my love for you translates into my dreams of you.” He continued to trace kisses across, up and down my throat as I spoke. I could feel my words vibrate against his lips. 

“Bella,” he murmured into my neck, “it is safe to say that I am guessing at what is going on inside your beautiful mind at all moments of my existence. That being said, I prefer your words to my imagination. Humor me.” 

I let out a nervous laugh, but could hardly recognize the sound. It was too high. Too airy. 

I wasn’t good with words. And I was especially bad at forming coherent sentences while his lips were on me. I could barley remember my own name. So instead, I decided I would try and show him. I pulled my body closer to his, so that our chests were flush. I repeated my plea for him to continue, just as I had in my dream: “Edward, please…” I then slowly shifted my hands to under the cotton of his shirt on the small of his back, splaying my hands across his marble skin, attempting to meld our bodies into one. He hissed into my neck at the new contact, his body shaking with his breath. 

In a flash he had shifted so that his face was aligned with my ribs. He slowly kissed another small pull in my shirt that left the fabric a little more frayed than the rest of the cotton. He rose his face from my body enough to meet my gaze. His face was so beautiful, even as he contorted it in concentration. It is as if he was trying to transfer his control to me through this scorching stare. Neither of us blinked as he spoke: “Were you put on this earth to torment me?” He turned back to my middle, his lips skimming my tee-shirt until he found his next landing point – my left hipbone. He didn’t look at me this time before he spoke: “You were made for me. Every part of your being.” 

Then he did something I wasn’t expecting. He kept his face close to my body, but shifted his nose so that it sat an inch away from the seam of my shorts. He then closed his eyes, and inhaled a slow and deliberate breath. Once he finished filling his lounges, he became perfectly still, hovering as a statue an inch above my pelvic bone. I tried to follow his lead and still myself, but my breath continued in short, ragged bursts. My blood was pumping in my ears. The moment was so charged, so filled with the question of what would happen next. I so badly wanted to break our separation – life my hips an inch so that I could feel what his mouth felt like on me, even if separated by a few layers of cotton. My control faltered, and I could feel my hips twitching towards him, as if we were magnets. I heard a growl in his chest. I wasn’t sure if it was caused by desire or restraint. He slowly lifted his head away from my center, locking eyes with me again. 

“Bella, I want to help you but it don’t trust myself. You’re too soft, too…perfect. My hard hands don’t belong on you. They don’t deserve you.” 

I opened my mouth to protest, but the next thing I know I feel his body pressed to my side with his finger on my lip. He gives me a soft “shush” before replacing his finger with a quick, soft kiss. He speaks against my lips: “But I want to be here. I want to see you. If you’ll allow it.” 

I wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for. Did he want to see me dream again? No, it was more than that. I never explicitly told him what my dream was, but he obviously knew all the same. But my fantasies always included him. My finish was always brought on by his strong, capable hands. Not my own clumsy self. So, how could he help me without touching me? His hands and lips were my vice. I was nothing without them. I wanted to tell him this, but I couldn’t bring myself to separate our lips for long enough for me to express this. 

After what could have been one minute or one hour, he pulled away from my face, but kept my body cradled to his side. He took my right hand in his and planted a kiss in the center of my palm. “Beautiful Bella, will you show me? Will you show me what you need?”

I still wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but I said “yes” in a breath anyway. I would give him anything that he wanted. I was clay to be molded by his immortally strong hands. 

He placed both of our hands over my heart, with mine touching my shirt, and his on top. Slowly, he guided our hands down, until they sat resting on my lower stomach. He then lifted his hand off mine, exiting offstage. He wanted me to take this part as a solo. I lifted my hand, reaching for his to rejoin me. But he gently pushed it back down, and whispered in my ear: “I’m right here. Show me your dream, love.” While his words were reassuring and measured, I noticed that his breathing was just as wild as mind. This encouraged me, and gave me just enough bravery to close my eyes and slip my hand beneath the elastic band of my shorts. 

I started to slowly explore the skin below my shorts, pretending it was his fingers instead of my own. With his breath in my ear and his scent in my head, I can almost convince myself that it is. The skin between my folds was slick and hot. I wonder if Edward can smell my arousal, and realize his earlier inhale was exploring just that. The thought of this makes my clench my thighs together, and I can feel my pulse in my core. When my fingers find my clit, my mouth parted and I let out a small desperate sound as I felt the sensation spread to every corner of my body. 

Beside me, I could hear a growl erupt from Edward. I opened my eyes for a moment to look at him, to make sure he was not regretting letting me do this next to him. He was still by my side, but one hand held the mattress tightly, while the other was balled in a fist on his leg. He was unblinking as his eyes flitted between my face and the hand that was hidden underneath my shorts. His jaw was just as tightly clenched as his fist, and once his growl ebbed, I could hear his breath was just as throaty as mine. I was distracted by his perfect face, and I noticed that the hand on my pelvis had paused its coaxing circles. 

Edward must have noticed my pause as well, because before I could withdraw my hand, his velvet voice was whispering in my ear: “Don’t stop, Bella. You’re so beautiful when you touch yourself. So perfect. I didn’t think there was a scent more alluring than your blood. How wrong I was. Nothing can compare to the scent of you need.” His words were just as arousing as his touch. They were all I needed to continue my slow, tantalizing circles. In a matter of breaths, each pore of my body was filled with the all consuming sensation. 

Before long, my eyes closed and my body arched, looking for the direction I needed to find the edge. I heard Edward’s sharp intake of breath, cutting off his whispers for a moment. He recovered quickly, though, and continued his mantra through clenched teeth. “How am I supposed to quit you, Bella? When every inch of you was crafted to test my control? You’re everything to me. You are mine.” 

Before I even realized, a low moan escaped my lips. It was all too much. The pressure building in my stomach, his words sending a shiver down my spine. I was so desperate to reach the end – whatever that may hold. A place of bliss where my Edward discarded our differences, and let our love – physical and emotional – shut out everything else. Suddenly, I needed this more than I needed anything. More than air, water or sunlight. All I needed was to cross to a point where only we existed. “Edward, please.” I begged him, as I had in my dream, to stay with me, to love me, to touch me, to be mine. 

“Anything, Bella. I’m right here. I love you. Let go.” So I did. I could feel my release fill every part of my being, just as my love for Edward did. The warmth invaded my soul, as I arched my back off of the bed. 

As I floated back down, I realized that his arms were wrapped around me. His breathing was fast and loud, but only half audible behind my heart which seemed to beating out of my chest. I buried my head in his neck, feeling like my bones were made of liquid. My breathing evened after a couple of minutes, and soon I felt enveloped in relaxation. He told me he loved me before he started to hum lullaby. Before long, I returned to my dream. Again.


End file.
